


Spider-Man Songfic Series: Feeling of Falling - Cheat Codes, Kim Petras

by littlewaterfall



Series: Spider-Man Songfics [3]
Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Adorable, Cute, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Kissing, M/M, Multi, Other, Sexual Tension, Tension, it's like a cup of hot chocolate, it's so fluffy I'm gonna die, this is garbage and i feel like there should be butterflies flying around them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-06-29 22:56:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19840255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlewaterfall/pseuds/littlewaterfall
Summary: College Peter and reader walk around campus, on their way back to the dorms.





	Spider-Man Songfic Series: Feeling of Falling - Cheat Codes, Kim Petras

a/n: Thank god I never have to write this again. My hell will consist of this song on a loop for eternity. I swear I've listened to it a thousand times while writing this the past few days. It's definitely my most played song on Spotify now. :P

word count: 1019

WARNINGS: none, god this is so fluffy

*****

“Is there a reason you’re blushing like that?” Peter asks quietly, his voice just a little louder than the distant sounds of the city. That’s your favorite thing about being in the center of campus. Somehow, it’s quiet. It’s still. It’s serene.

“Nope,” you say quickly, popping the p. You turn your head away slightly, suddenly becoming very interested in the autumn colors in the trees. “Just cold.”

You feel Peter’s thumb rub gentle circles on the back of your hand and your grip reflexively tightens a little. But, you don’t want to pull away. You want him closer. You want to lean into his touch, but it’s almost as if there’s an invisible thread pulling you away.

The heat in your cheeks is definitely because of Peter and you pray he can’t feel your quick pulse under his fingertips.

Or the shivers running up your spine that happen as often as hiccups.

“What do you want to do when we get back?” he asks, and you can feel his eyes on you and hear the smirk in his voice, but you’re still nervous to look at him. Unsure of whether you’ll be able to restrain yourself much longer if you do.

But you want to look at him. God, he demands to be looked at. It baffles you every day when you’re reminded that no one pays attention to Peter. How do they do that?

He stops walking and you feel him take your hand in both of his. The sudden stop naturally forces your body to turn toward him and your gaze instantly goes to his hands around yours and you follow them as he raises your fingers to his lips, cups his hands, and blows light warm air over your skin.

It prickles and your heart skips. You swallow.

“We could watch a movie,” you suggest.

He raises an eyebrow and lowers your hand away from his face. 

One corner of his mouth is turned up just so, but as he speaks, the other side curls upward into a smile that is fully aware of what he’s doing to you.

“Just a movie?”

He raises your hand again, but you reach up with the other. The second your fingers touch him, you look up to connect with a knowing fire behind eyes that melt the chills away.

The crisp air filling your lungs brings the feeling back to your body, but there’s a new warmth washing over you. You realize that he’s taken both of your hands in his, one in each, and is holding them so gingerly and carefully, but the way his fingers move across your skin is subtly bringing you closer.

You’re inches away when you take another breath. Holding eye contact with him, you let a smile play on your own lips.

“We’ll see,” you say simply.

You interlock your right hand with his left and turn to continue walking down the sidewalk. You slow your pace until you’re in step with one another. You lean closer to him, your shoulders brush, the fabric of your jackets catches for only a moment, then you part and you let your arms swing. You’re smiling as you go back onto your left foot, teetering on the edge of the sidewalk over the grass.

His smile beams. An open-mouthed, bright-eyed kind of smile that holds laughter and joy inside it. He tugs you back to him, the gravity between you longing for closure. The angle physically turns you around and you spin to a stop with your back against his chest. His left arm held tightly to your body and his right arm comes to wrap around you in a warm embrace.

You tilt your head back and find his brilliant brown eyes. They’re crinkled at the corners and twinkling in the orange glow of the streetlamps.

It’s a moment, a moment you could live in. A moment of warmth and security and peace. A moment that could not get better.

Peter laughs lightly and his eyes blink slowly as he says: “Oh please just kiss me already.”

Before his eyes can fully open again, you close the space between you and brush your lips against his, softly at first, but then his hands let go of yours and roam to your sides and turn you so your chest is pressed against his. You lean into the kiss and your hands slide up his shoulders and around his neck and your fingers tangle themselves in his hair. He has one hand at the small of your back and the other at the base of your neck and he’s bringing you closer, but not demanding it. There’s a question in his touch, a hesitation.

You deepen the kiss, hoping that answer will suffice. 

His lips part to take a breath and you open your eyes for only a moment to find his squeezed shut. Almost as if he’s dreaming and is fighting the urge to wake up. Afraid he’ll lose what he has.

A smile is still caught in the corners of his mouth and the upward pull of his cheeks. And your own expression can’t match it, but oh if he could feel your heart. Feel the thrum of your pulse careening toward a breaking point that spiked when his lips met yours. His touch is familiar, a memory on the tip of your tongue.

Oh, if time could stop. If it could let you stay here, let you hold this moment in place forever.

You break for air again, but you don’t leave him. You turn your head and nestle into his chest. He wraps both of his arms around you back and holds you close as the evening wind whistles around the buildings and through the trees. You close your eyes and focus on the sounds of his breathing and his heart pumping steadily.

He takes a deep breath, cranes his head down, and kisses the top of your forehead.

“Come on,” he says and turns you again, so he can take your right hand in his left. “Let’s go watch that movie.”

*****

That was the most imagery I have ever used in anything ever. :P


End file.
